


Ever I Saw Your Face

by kimberquel (kimberly_a)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Spells & Enchantments, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimberly_a/pseuds/kimberquel
Summary: Eliot obliges one of Quentin's secret fantasies





	Ever I Saw Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what the heck this thing is. It came to me in the wee hours of the morning, and I ended up sitting down and writing it over the course of a couple hours. This is completely unbeta'd and I'm posting it pretty much immediately after finishing writing it so I don't change my mind. Maybe someone out there will like it. lol

They were spooned together in the darkness of their bed, sated and still a little sweaty, when Eliot asked the question. He murmured impishly into Quentin’s ear, “Do you have any fantasies you’ve never told me about, Q? Any secret little kinks you’ve been afraid to share?” Quentin froze, but relaxed a tiny bit as Eliot stroked a soothing hand along his chest and belly. More serious now, Eliot coaxed, “You know I won’t judge. And it would be incredibly hot to get to indulge desires you’ve never told anyone else.” He took Quentin’s earlobe into his mouth and licked it softly, then gave it a gentle suck and nip.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Quentin whispered into the dark room in front of him. He wouldn’t even have been able to say that much if he hadn’t been facing away, with Eliot safely behind him and unable to see even a dim outline of his face. His cheeks heated anyway.

He felt Eliot shift behind him, resting his chin on Quentin’s bare shoulder. “I promise I won’t think it’s stupid. Everyone has their little kinks they think no one would understand.” He pressed a kiss to Quentin’s shoulder. “Do you really think there’s anything I haven’t done or at least heard of before, Q? Me?”

Quentin huffed out a laugh. “Probably not,” he admitted, smiling a little despite himself. This was probably embarrassingly tame compared to things Eliot had done a thousand times. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I can absolutely swear in all seriousness and with complete certainty that I will not laugh at you about this, Q.” Eliot sounded like he was making a solemn promise.

Quentin took a deep breath and then let it out. “I have a … fantasy.” Eliot continued stroking the bare skin of his chest and belly, pressing another kiss to his shoulder but not speaking, giving Quentin room to open up at his own pace. “A … virginity fantasy.” There, he’d said it. He trusted Eliot not to mock him, but it had still been difficult to admit.

Eliot stroked a hand along the length of Quentin’s arm. “There’s a spell for that, you know.” Quentin nodded in the dark. Eliot continued, “It keeps all your memories intact, all parts of your personality, everything about you … except your sexual experience.” Quentin felt goosebumps rise along the surface of his skin at the mere idea. “Would you like that, Q?” Eliot pressed himself more firmly all along Quentin’s back and legs. “Would you like to be a virgin again for me?” He squeezed his arm around Quentin’s body.

Quentin didn’t say anything, just staring into the dark, trying to gather his courage. Could he say it? Eliot would never go along with it. Then he just, hesitantly, shook his head. Behind him, he could sense Eliot’s confusion. “No?” Quentin shook his head again, then hid his face in the pillow, pulling slightly away from Eliot’s body and letting his hair fall forward to hide his face in a habitual gesture. But Eliot knew him too well. He carded his fingers through Quentin’s hair, pulling the silky strands back and encouraging Quentin to roll back closer to him again. Then he encouraged Quentin’s movement to continue until he was lying on his back with Eliot propped up on one elbow beside him, a mere shadow in the dim light, their legs intertwined. “Then what?” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Quentin’s lips. He said gently, “You can trust me, Q.”

Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, a technique he’d learned to calm his anxiety over the years, Quentin whispered almost inaudibly, “I wanted to use the spell on you.”

He felt Eliot’s hand slide to cup his cheek, then reach to softly touch his lips. Quentin opened his mouth slightly and let his tongue touch Eliot’s fingertips, which then slid inside to gently stroke the soft skin just inside his mouth. Eliot pulled his fingers out again and used the moisture to wet Quentin’s lips before he learned over and kissed him, first gently and then more deeply, his hands tangling in Quentin’s hair to pull him closer. Incredibly, his cock was hardening against Quentin’s upper thigh. He breathed against Quentin’s moist lips, “I’ll be a virgin for you, Q,” and his breath against Quentin’s wet lips made him shiver again. Though perhaps the shiver was partly from the words, and not just the physical sensation.

Stroking his hand along Quentin’s body in slow, relaxing strokes, Eliot said, “For now, let’s sleep. And tomorrow…” He turned Quentin so that they were spooning again and whispered in his ear, “Tomorrow we’ll do the spell. And you’ll get to be the first person to ever touch me.” Quentin bit his lip against the moan that threatened to spill out at the idea and simply nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

* * *

“Well, at least I’m not 14 anymore, so I can say with fairly definitive certainty that I will not come the second you get your hand inside my pants,” Eliot joked the next evening as they prepared to cast the spell.

Quentin looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did that happen to you?”

Eliot looked shocked for a moment, then affronted, insisting, “Absolutely not.”

Quentin smiled slightly. “It totally did.”

“Well, what was your first time like?” Eliot asked. “Were you suave and confident, wooing your lover with expert skill and finesse?”

Quentin shrugged awkwardly. “Well, she’d never done it before, either, so we didn’t really know what we were doing.”

Eliot nodded in mock seriousness. “Sounds like a recipe for a stellar sexual experience.”

Quentin tucked his hair behind his ear and met Eliot’s eyes with a slight smile. “There was a lot of fumbling.”

“Well,” Eliot said, “at least this time one of us will know what they’re doing.” He smirked at Quentin, who blushed and looked away. “Oh, come on. You’re going to be initiating me into the art of love, Q. I happen to know you’re fairly good at it.” Quentin didn’t know what his face looked like, but he imagined a portrait of embarrassed pleasure at Eliot’s praise.

“Do you want me naked, or do you want to undress me?” Eliot asked, all business.

Quentin blushed even hotter. “Do you have to make this so … so … normal?”

Eliot chuckled and pulled Quentin into his arms. “It’s perfectly normal. And it’s supposed to be fun. This is what you want, right?” Quentin nodded into Eliot’s shoulder. “Okay, so do you want me naked or not?” Quentin laughed.

“Let’s start out not,” Quentin replied.

“Remember,” Eliot said, “I’m still me. In every single way except this, except that I’m not the sex god you know and love.” Quentin laughed again, but Eliot took his chin in his hand and turned his face so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Remember, it’s still me.” Quentin nodded.

They sat cross-legged, facing each other on the bed, and performed the necessary tuts. When they were done, Quentin asked hesitantly, “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot replied.

“Well, do you feel like a sex god?” Quentin asked.

Eliot bit his lip and said, “Not really?” It ended up coming out sounding like a question.

“Then it definitely worked,” Quentin said. He’d never heard Eliot sound that nervous before. Not even when he’d first admitted he’d developed feelings for Quentin, when he’d sounded like he might almost vomit from the ridiculous uncertainty that Quentin would reciprocate.

“Can I kiss you?” Quentin asked, and Eliot nodded. Quentin leaned forward as they still sat cross-legged facing each other and gently pressed his lips to Eliot’s. “You remember kissing, right? Just not…”

Eliot nodded. “I remember kissing people. Just nothing more than that. But … I want you to touch me, Q.” He was trembling slightly. God, it turned Quentin on like nothing else ever had.

They scooted down to lie side by side on the bed, and Quentin reached out a hand to gently trace a line along the side of Eliot’s neck. “More,” Eliot said.

“Well, the spell certainly hasn’t made you any less bossy,” Quentin commented, amused. He moved closer, so that their bodies were touching lightly from mouth to foot, and kissed him again, sliding a hand into Eliot’s dark curls. Eliot moaned into Quentin’s mouth.

“More,” he begged, pressing his body closer to Quentin’s, making his growing arousal evident. Quentin ran a hand up and down Eliot’s back, then grabbed hold of his silk shirt and began pulling it out of the back of his trousers. “Yes,” Eliot responded. “Yes, let’s get our shirts off,” and he began tugging at Quentin’s t-shirt.

“Not so fast,” Quentin laughed. “Sit up. Let me get this thing off of you, but there’s no rush.” He began slowly unbuttoning Eliot’s shirt.

“No rush for you, maybe,” Eliot replied, sounding annoyed. He yanked Quentin’s t-shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor, then took over for Quentin in the unbuttoning of his own shirt. He pulled it off and threw it in a careless way that Eliot would normally never have treated his own clothing, then stopped to stare at Quentin’s bare chest.

“Let’s lie down again, yeah?” Quentin suggested, and Eliot nodded vigorously, curls bobbing. God, he looked adorable. The same Eliot as always, but a bit wide-eyed and eager in an innocent way straight out of Quentin’s fantasies.

Eliot lay down on his side again, but Quentin pushed him over to lie on his back. “Let me touch you, okay?” Eliot nodded, then closed his eyes tightly at the first touch of Quentin’s hand on his bare chest, a rough exhalation escaping his mouth.

“Yes,” he sighed, arching up to meet Quentin’s hands. Knowing what Eliot liked, Quentin softly brushed the flat of his hand against first one nipple, then the other, before touching one of them more directly. Eliot was squirming. “Please?” Eliot groaned. “More? I need … more.” So Quentin took one of Eliot’s nipples between his fingers and pinched it lightly. “Ah!” Eliot cried. He’d always been so sensitive there, loving to have Quentin play with his nipples for ages before they moved on to anything more vigorous. But tonight that might be too much. Quentin leaned over and took Eliot’s other nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly. Eliot’s hips had begun moving rhythmically, thrusting into the air in subtle movements.

Okay, so maybe Eliot wasn’t going to come at the first touch, but he obviously wasn’t going to have the kind of stamina Quentin was accustomed to from him. With all this sensation being completely new, it must all be a bit overwhelming, even to someone older than 14.

Quentin kept sucking Eliot’s nipple and slowly slid his hand down across Eliot’s bare skin until he reached the waistband of his trousers. “Please?” Eliot repeated, and so Quentin continued his exploration until his hand rested lightly on Eliot’s clothed erection. “Oh my god,” Eliot breathed. “That feels … amazing. Could you…” Quentin squeezed his hand slightly and Eliot arched as if he’d been electrocuted, letting out a startled sound that sounded like a mixture of pleasure and pain. “Don’t tease me, Q,” he said. “You know I can’t take it when I’m like this. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Quentin agreed, leaning up to kiss Eliot’s mouth as he struggled to unbutton Eliot’s trousers.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Eliot grumbled against Quentin’s mouth, then reached down and unfastened his own button and zipper. “When are you ever going to learn to do that one-handed?”

Quentin laughed. “You’ll have to give me lessons.”

“If you haven’t learned by now, you’re probably hopeless,” Eliot declared, then abruptly shut his mouth with a snap as Quentin slid his hand into the open trouser front. “Oh holy Jesus fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He thrust his hips up hard into Quentin’s hand, increasing the pressure against his cock. “Get my fucking trousers off,” he groused, pushing and kicking at them at the same time as Quentin tried to help. It ended up an awkward tangle of hands and impatient legs, but eventually the trousers, too, had been unceremoniously tossed to the floor. Quentin wondered if Eliot would be pissed about creases and wrinkles when the spell wore off.

Eliot now lay before him wearing nothing but a pair of red satin boxer shorts. Quentin knew he often didn’t wear underwear at all if he believed it would ruin the line of his trousers, but apparently tonight, knowing what would be happening, he had chosen to wear boxers.

Quentin slid his hand lightly across the silk over Eliot’s straining erection, making Eliot writhe beneath the touch. “Does that feel good?” he couldn’t help asking, even though he already knew the answer.

“You know it does, you bastard,” Eliot replied testily. “Why are you taunting me like this, you sadist?”

“Hey,” Quentin said softly, leaning over to kiss Eliot’s lips. “I’m just trying to take this slow because it’s all new to you.” He felt uncertain for a moment. “It is all new to you, right? I mean, at the moment?”

“Yes, it’s all fucking new to me and I can’t help imagining what it’s going to feel like to have your hand actually touching my naked cock so could we please hurry things along?”

Obligingly, but still slowly, Quentin let a finger trail under one leg of Eliot’s boxers, trailing up until he felt pubic hair and the side of Eliot’s balls, already pulled up tight. Eliot squeezed his eyes shut tight again, muttering something under his breath, but Quentin couldn’t hear what it was. He pulled his hand back out of Eliot’s boxers and slid them down past Eliot’s hips. Eliot raised his butt up off the bed to help as much as possible.

And then Quentin was lying there beside a naked, innocent, virginal Eliot Waugh, and it was everything he’d fantasized about. Eliot looked absolutely desperate, veins standing out in his neck as he tightened his jaw, his hands knotted at his sides.

“Are you going to touch my fucking cock or just stare at it?” Eliot snapped. Some of his dark curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat, while the others sprawled across the pillow in wanton disarray. He looked absolutely delicious. Quentin had never truly felt like he was the one in control with Eliot, but now he finally was, and it was intoxicating.

Lying on his side, he kissed Eliot again—Eliot leaning into the kiss with desperate hunger—and raised his hand to gently grasp Eliot’s cock. Eliot bit his lip a bit too hard at that first touch and pulled his face away to apologize, but Quentin stopped his mouth with another kiss as he slid his hand very lightly up and down that very familiar dick. How many times had he done this? But Eliot had never responded quite this way. He’d always been masterful, confident, and now he was a squirming mess beside Quentin in the bed.

Quentin leaned away toward the bedside table, and Eliot objected immediately, but Quentin returned with a bottle of lube and slicked his right hand to wrap it lightly around Eliot’s cock. The rush of air out of Eliot’s lungs would have been funny if it wasn’t so incredibly arousing. “Fucking finally,” Eliot moaned.

Quentin began jacking him slowly, making sure to slide his thumb over the head in the way he knew Eliot liked best. It wasn’t long before Eliot wasn’t coherent anymore, just making frantic noises and throwing his hands over his head, tangling one in his hair and bracing the other against the headboard. Eliot’s feet scrabbled at the mattress, his toes curling in the way that Quentin knew meant he was close.

Taking mercy on him, Quentin sped up his strokes and squeezed Eliot’s cock a bit more firmly in his hand, and almost immediately Eliot erupted into an orgasm more violent than Quentin had ever seen from him before. His entire body seized on the bed and he came so hard that a bit of spunk actually hit his chin before he pulsed several times in ever-decreasing waves of release. Quentin continued stroking him firmly from the base, not nearing the sensitive head, until he was sure the orgasm was finished, and then simply held Eliot’s softened cock in his slick hand as he lay propped up on one hand, gazing at his lover’s utterly relaxed, blissful face. “Holy fuck,” Eliot panted as he lay there, replete.

It was everything Quentin had wanted, and more. The expressions on Eliot’s face, the reactions of his body… Eliot was an avid and enthusiastic lover, but he was also supremely skilled and confident. Seeing him vulnerable like this had been everything Quentin had secretly fantasized about.

“Your turn?” a sleepy voice asked from beside him, and Quentin quirked a small smile.

“You’ve probably never taken a shower with anyone else before, so how about we try that? And then, when the spell wears off, if you want to do it again sometime, we’ll talk about more.”

“Okay.” Eliot was always adorably obliging immediately after orgasm, and right now he seemed even more so than usual. Quentin climbed off the bed, shucked his jeans and underwear, and then pulled Eliot up by the hand and led him toward the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @kimberquel on Tumblr, @letstrytobekind on Twitter, and just plain Kimberly on the RAO


End file.
